


Nothing more to say...

by Axolotl7



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Gen, Melinda May Feels, Melinda May is Not A Robot, Pheels, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 15:08:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8376784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Axolotl7/pseuds/Axolotl7
Summary: When May sees Daisy for the first time in six months, simply sitting there in the hanger of his plane... (Follow on from S04E04)





	

Her feet stop mid-stride up the entrance ramp. 

She's fortunate to avoid stumbling pathetically in shock. Her body recognises the small form before her mind can confirm, her eyes adjusting far too slowly to the darker interior to identify the woman sitting there. Right there in front of her. She stands in shock for far too long. For a millisecond. Maybe two. Her eyes find Phil’s swiftly seeking reassurance that she's not seeing things that aren't real. Again. 

He’s already watching for her reaction, face smiling cautiously; Daisy is really here then.

“A heads up would have been nice,” she grumbles at him because her mind is in a confusion of colliding thoughts and feelings and she cannot find another reaction more appropriate than to grump at him - or to run away screaming that she isn't ready.

“I found Daisy,” he replies immediately. Trying for humour to cover the pain his eyes tell her he's still struggling with. His eyes always tell her the truth when his voice and his expression give the facade he wishes.

“Too late.” In so many senses of the phrase. Her expression must gives something away; some small clue of just how hard this is for her right now, of just how much she hurts because there's a flash of remorse across his face for the failure to warn her in advance. Even if she can rationally reason that between losing Radcliffe and entering the plane there simply wasn't time, there’s still a part of her that feels, however unreasonably, that he should have made the attempt anyway. A small twitch of the fingers of his right hand signs repeated apologies without the others knowing. She turns away before he can sign anything more. Before she loses control.

It takes longer than she likes to get her expression under control enough to turn back to face the rest of the room and stride purposely past everyone, heading for the cockpit she can hide herself away within. Somewhere safely alone to give herself time to work out how to deal with this and maybe just maybe to give herself somewhere private to break down and cry. She rushes it uncaring of the image she presents, only knowing she has to get away from here before Daisy says anything, before Daisy does anything, before she’s forced to confront her in the here and now, so totally unprepared.

“That's all you're going to say?” Daisy’s voice accuses her loudly, the words echoing throughout the cold hanger to bombard her mind. She stops her stride but she refuses to turn around to face the girl or any of the rest of them. She feels lightheaded, vulnerable in a way strength of arms cannot fix.

Afraid.

She's waited for the moment she sees Daisy again for the last six months. She should have had enough time to prepare what to say, what to do... how to get Daisy to want to stay. Instead she's petrified that maybe she'll say something wrong and chase Daisy away forever. Or do something. She's no idea what to do!

She stands frozen in indecision.

“Well?” Daisy demands from behind her and she can hear as the girl moves - the low creak as she leaps up from her seat, the heels harsh on the metal plated floor as she stomps up behind her; intending to remove all her options and force a response irrespective of how ill prepared she might be to give it! Phil’s soft shoes she hardly hears, his whispered words she can make out as he intercepts Daisy: a "leave her be" and most likely a fatherly hand to her shoulder halting Daisy’s progress. They’ve always had that easy relationship, his casual touches so _normal_ , so simple. He always knows what to do and what to say. She’s left bereft of words, floundering to find any response to convey the pain... and the absolute joy. She can escape now - run like a coward away from a problem she's too scared to face.

If only her feet would work.

She can't seem to make her body leave when so much of her heart wants her to run towards Daisy rather than away. It's too hard to maintain control. If she so much as turns... she’ll see Daisy. She’ll see those wide eyes filled with hatred or with longing or with hope or something she just can’t deal with right now. She’ll see how Daisy holds her body rigid, all of her muscles tightly controlled to hold herself in place. She’ll see Daisy shaking lightly, impassioned with rage or hurt; she can almost feel the tremors through the decking below her own feet.

If she turns, if she sees Daisy in such torment... she’s not sure what her body might do when her frazzled nerves are barely holding on to a semblance of control. 

She’s not sure that she can maintain her carefully blanked mask. 

She's not sure that she can keep her legs from rushing back towards Daisy. 

She's not sure that she can keep her arms from hugging Daisy tightly to her and never letting go.

She’s not sure that she can keep her voice from begging, pleading ridiculously that Daisy never leave them again. 

She is sure that the tears will fall from her already wet eyes. She is sure that she’ll lose it. She is sure that her heart will not survive being broken all over again. Not just now. Not when she’s still so weary from _everything._ Not when she’s so ill prepared.

She's so sure... that she doesn't respond verbally, doesn’t even dare to turn to face the girl she loves. She raises her chin up high and focuses ahead – the grey door that will let her escape before she ruins everything.

“You're really just going to walk away?!” Daisy says, feigned astonishment hardly disguising her upset.

Yes, she is. She is going to somehow force her feet to start moving again and she is going to damn well make it through that door before her entire facade crumbles and she's left a wretched emotional mess here in front of everyone, opening her mouth and possibly losing Daisy forever.

"Say something!" Anger covering for fear, she knows that disguise intimately. She could be angry in return. Ground out curses and accusations. Daisy left. She didn’t even say goodbye. She ran from them, from her home, from her family! For what?! To go on some vigilante exercise to make herself feel a little better! They needed her and she left! Hell, she’d nearly died and still Daisy hadn’t come back!

She breathes deeply. Counts them off steadily in her mind. Her anger here will not help anything – not Daisy, not herself. She’s sense enough to recognise that neither of them are really angry at the other. They’re both just scared.

“Say something, damn you!”

How to say something when there's a sick weight in your stomach, a lump too large to breathe around let alone swallow past to speak and all you might be able to croak is hopelessness.

“Say something!” Daisy shouts and it's the slight break in her voice that breaks them both. 

She can’t leave without knowing...

“Are you staying?” She asks the question in a whisper, a part of her possibly hoping that Daisy doesn’t hear, or that if the answer is ‘no’ she pretends not to. She knows Daisy hears from the sudden inhale. Coulson’s soft reprimand to her, a simple “May” for asking the one question she knows she shouldn’t, the one obvious question that will back Daisy right in to a corner and possibly result in her running from them again - commitment.

But, after everything, that really is the only question that matters. The only _answer_ that matters.

There's too long a silence for the answer to be positive. Her mind knows that as dread seeps throughout her body. Her heart aches with forgotten hope just in case... just in case... until hearing the girl’s sigh and the words that could well break a lesser woman:

“I don't know,” is whispered, tortured. She feels that answer strike deep inside, a jagged shard of ice piercing through her heart, freezing pain seeping into her soul.

“Then there's nothing more for us to say,” she finds the strength to reply without letting the devastation or any hint of accusation enter her tone. She makes her suddenly weak legs obey her commands to stride forcefully forwards and away, across the deck plating, forcing a smooth striding regularity that belies the pain in her heart and disguises the fact she can no longer find air to breathe or see through the tears that she will allow to fall only once the door closes behind her.

She can’t make Daisy want to stay.

There's nothing more to say.

 

x


End file.
